


Lack of Communication

by casknows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Boys Kissing, Bunker Fluff, Castiel in the Bunker, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Ficlet, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, POV Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Supernatural bunker, Surprise Kissing, destiel fic, supernatural (tv show) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:45:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casknows/pseuds/casknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is tired of hiding, and castiel is tired of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lack of Communication

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first destial fic ever created. It's not great, obviously. But hey you've gotta appreciate Dean and Cas pining for each whatever the quality of writing... I think.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

For Dean, time always seemed to slow down when he was alone. Maybe that was why he surrounded himself with the chatty, distracting women that he picked up at the bars he and Sam always seemed to find themselves in. The silence that surrounded him always seemed too vast and too quiet; it made him shift and twitch or tap his foot, anything to break that awful stillness, because he knew that if he was left alone with it and his thoughts for more than a moment then he would be wading in darkness, unable to escape the memories that came at him.

At present he was sitting at the small and only table that their current motel offered, flicking absent-mindedly through the pages of yet another hefty tomb that Sammy insisted on carrying around with them.

Currently they only had one lead, one which Sam was following up with determined solidarity.

Back before the numerous events that had ripped their foundations apart had occurred, Sam and he had always followed up their leads together, running through the possibilities jointly with an ease that they lacked with one another now.

Sam had found this particular one on his own and had left abruptly immediately after, the tense silences that often surrounded the two brothers obviously too much for him. Now Dean had been left with endless amounts of research that he was supposed to be doing but his mind kept wandering, even the sun spots on the wall were beginning to distract him as they slowly moved with the time.

A glass of untouched whisky sat on the table in front of him and the mid-afternoon light shone through it, reflecting golden onto the tarnished wood. The clock ticked, pages rustled, the occasional car horn outside. Quiet. Then, a rustle of wings and Dean felt a familiar presence behind him. Although he should have been used to this by now, the first thought that entered his head at this new development was ‘ _intruder_ ' and then the second was ' _goddammit Castiel_ ' as he forced himself out of his dream-like state and remembered who it was that turned up like this without fail and without any freaking warning.

“Hello Dean.”

It was like a ritual; ‘dammit Cas’ ‘hello Dean.’ or sometimes the other way round. The whole process was tedious, slightly awkward, and always made Dean feel uncomfortable. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he just kept his back turned to the angel and pretended not to notice his presence, but it seemed that however many times this ritual of hello’s happened Dean always got an odd feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite place and didn’t really want to.

“What are you doin’ here Cas?” Dean stood up, slightly annoyed. Castiel would do this often; turn up seemingly just to talk to him, and every damn time Dean would think that maybe Cas would stay, maybe eat supper and have a proper conversation, have a laugh with Sammy, even if it was just for a night. But he never did, sometimes Dean would be in the middle of a sentence, and when he looked around for an answer the room would be empty and he would be alone again.

“How are you Dean?” Castiel’s voice was tentative, as if he could sense his annoyance. He probably could to be quite honest, Dean grumbled internally, he’s a god damn angel what can’t he do?

“I’m fine Cas.” Dean said shortly, “You don’t have to check up on me.” Cas looked down at the floor, he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, Deans eyes fixed on him and his irritated expression were obviously making the angel uncomfortable. But standing there in his overly large trench coat and back to front tie with his squinting eyes looking at anything in the small room but Dean, it was hard to be annoyed at something so endearing.

_Wait, endearing? Snap out of it Dean._

The fact that he could not stay mad at Cas for even a short period of time irritated Dean because he was a hunter in control of his emotions so a puppy face should not affect him. Usually they didn’t, not that they happened very often in his line of work, but when the occasion did arise, Dean got on with whatever he had to do and didn’t feel anything in the slightest. This made what he was feeling now even more confusing because whenever Cas squinted at him with those painfully blue eyes and the familiar, vaguely confused expression appearing on his face, Dean got the distinct feeling that baby elephants were dancing on his chest.

A silence followed in which Cas squinted fixedly at the sunspots on the wall that Dean had found so distracting, and Dean himself tapped his fingers on the table repeatedly until they started to throb slightly. Finally Cas cleared his throat nervously at which Dean looked up, he shuffled and opened his mouth slightly before saying “I am sorry if I offended you in some way Dean.”

“Uh, it’s ok Cas. I’m just not sure why you keep turning up to check up on us. Sam and I are fine. Did you need something else?”

“No. No, I was in the neighbourhood. But you seem fine, Goodbye Dean.” And that was it. He was gone again. Dean kicked the table in frustration, then regretted it as he was painfully reminded that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He sat down. Stared at the sunspots, and they didn’t seem so interesting anymore.

The next few days repeated in this fashion. Castiel came again, awkwardly asked how they were, and then left again in just the same abrupt way as his arrival. Nearly a week later, Dean had been in the shower at the time of Cas’s sudden but still expected appearance, emerging half naked and unsuspecting from the bathroom just as Cas materialized in the hallway. The angel reddened and turned away quickly, Dean heard a mutter of “My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” before disappearing again. Dean sighed; this whole awkward thing going on between he and Cas was bothering him more than it should. Sam, sitting in the other room, noticed the exchange from the doorway and laughed quietly, although not quietly enough as Dean whirled around, glaring, his towel slipping dangerously.

After that particular exchange Castiel didn’t return for a while, and Dean began to realise with sense of dread, similar to that of realising you have taken a wrong turning, that he missed him. Quite a lot. After the fourth day of a no show, it was becoming more and more obvious that Dean was not exactly his usual self.

Sam and he were on the road, the job now being finished, and Dean was subconsciously demonstrating his discomfort by driving with skills equivalent to that of a sight impaired geriatric. “Wow! Okay buddy I think it’s my turn to drive while you tell me what the hell is wrong with you.” Sam said firmly after their third near death experience with an oncoming object, this time specifically a large, violently purple camper van. Dean refused to say anything for the rest of the drive, head turned away from his brother and staring stonily out the window, occasionally nodding slightly to the music that was blasting loudly throughout the car, but still failing to dispel the strained silence between them. As soon as they had parked at a suitable motel, Dean wordlessly exited the impala with his bag over his shoulder and dragged himself inside to the front desk to book a room. Sam frowned, usually if Dean was annoyed about anything he would grumble about it non-stop until he was physically shut up. He sighed, grabbed his bag and followed Dean into the shabby interior.

This new motel room was slightly smaller than their last one and smelled like the last occupant had died and then been left to decompose quietly in a corner. The curtains were an aggressive shade of mustard yellow which, after being stared at for more than a few seconds, made Sam’s eyes ache slightly. He dumped his collection of bags by his tartan quilted bed and peered over at the stubbornly silent and motionless figure, who lay on his own bed with a pillow over his face.

“Ok, I’m going to go talk to the family. Maybe you should stay here and get some rest.”

Dean grunted. The pillow stayed firmly in place. Sam nodded and then let himself out.

 

*

Now, with evening having arrived and Sam having stayed out at the nearby bar, Dean was restless. He’d tried going out but as he’d opened the door to the room he’d realised that it was the colour of Castiel’s eyes and had promptly gone back to bed. Lying on top of the covers with the pillow once again firmly in place, he wondered how the hell he was going to figure this whole thing out, his mind wondered to other things until it rested on a subject he should not be thinking about.

“Dammit.” Getting up he he strode into the bathroom and turned on the tap, then splashed his face repeatedly with freezing cold water. Dean’s face was buried in a towel when he came out of the bathroom, after having sufficiently calmed down, so he didn’t notice the other figure in the room for another minute. He took the towel away from his face, saw Castiel, and immediately buried it in the towel again. A muttered “God freaking dammit” was heard through the cloth and Cas coughed awkwardly,

“Uh, hello Dean.” Dean removed the towel and flung it over onto the bed, then proceeded to breathe in and out slowly a couple of times,

“What’s up Cas?” His voice was tired, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

“I was just checking to see how you were getting on, I see Sam is out…” Cas put his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth nervously. “Everything seems fine, I don’t want to bother you Dean.”

“Cas. You literally just arrived, why don't you actually stay for a while instead of leaving two minutes after you've arrived?” Castiel shifted, moving from foot to foot like a five year old.

“It’s for the best that I do.” He stated calmly, although his eyes darted about the room looking anywhere but at Dean, who frowned.

“Yeah yeah for the best, ok Cas whatever you say.” He passed a hand over his face and turned away.

_I’m too tired for this shit._

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Dean, I-”

“Just let me check, is there something wrong with you? Something you haven’t told us about? Sam and I don’t know what’s going on with you! Just at least let us know you’re ok. Truthfully.” These feelings were entirely Dean’s but he wasn’t about to go and admit that to the idiot who wouldn’t even stay in his presence longer than five freaking minutes.

“I’m fine Dean.”

“Yeah right.”

“Dean-”

“You know what? Fine. But then stop appearing everyday and acting like you give a crap.”

“I do, as you say, ‘give a crap’ Dean! You don’t understand! Humans- humans don’t-”

“Oh well I’m sorry us humans aren’t interesting enough for you your highness.” There was a silence as they stared at each other, both expressions contorted, Castiel's in frustration and Deans in complete exasperation. Then, “What’s the matter with you Cas? Why d’you keep disappearing on us?”

“Because every time I am in your presence Dean I get this feeling and I don’t know what it is but angels are not meant to feel like this!” Castiel span around and shuffled to the window.

“I make you sick?” Dean turned away and headed for the fridge. _Beer, I need a shit ton of beer._

“No Dean you don’t understand…” Castiel’s brow was furrowed, he was squinting at Dean in obvious turmoil. “When I’m with you I get this emotion. It…”

“Cas, your lack of communication is astounding.” He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, flicked the top off and drank generously and furiously while Castiel looked up at the ceiling, seemingly praying to his father on high for some sort of aid. Deans lack of understanding was obviously just as astounding.

Dean leant against the table and stared at his socks to gather his strength. They both had holes. He sighed, partly at the socks but mostly at the infantile angel; he was not good at the whole talking about the feelings thing. “Can you, uh, demonstrate how it makes you feel?” Castiel’s expression went to default: the squinting eyes and overall confused look which drove Dean crazy, and then he swallowed and began to shuffle towards him. He looked slightly terrified, like that time Dean had taken him to that particular bar on his supposed ‘last night on earth’, but also determined. Dean was feeling nervous now, he wanted to ask Cas what he was doing but his throat had sealed shut and he was instinctively leaning toward him in- what? Anticipation?

Cas drew closer, his blue eyes seemed to have gotten even brighter, which was ridiculous, thought Dean. His eyes couldn’t possibly get any bluer than they already were. Cas now stood so close to Dean that if he had moved any closer their noses would have been brushing. His eyes darted down to Dean’s lips, he swallowed, and then he spoke. His voice was deeper and rougher and if Dean didn’t do something right away he was going to jump him right there against the wall next to the hideous mustard curtains. Castiel’s lips moved distractingly, “It makes me want to do this.”

At first the kiss was so light that Dean hardly felt their lips brush, but then he leant in and Castiel’s hands were in his hair and Dean’s hands were cupping his face and suddenly he couldn’t get enough of Cas. Cas and his hundreds of layers of clothes and bed hair and deep voice and awful humour and his stupid, fucking beautiful face. Dean wasn’t sure how long it was, but at some point his lips were no longer on Castiel’s and they were staring at each other. Castiel’s hands were still buried in Dean’s hair and his ridiculously blue eyes were looking at Dean hungrily.

“Not for nothing, Cas, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” Cas squinted, and then stated firmly, “Shut up Dean.” Dean was laughing until Cas’s lips shut him up with finality.


End file.
